


the more things change

by days4daisy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chocolate Box Treat, Incest, M/M, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-07 22:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13444281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: “I don’t recall inviting you to my bed.”“I don’t recall needing an invitation.”





	the more things change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/gifts).



> Happy Chocolate Box, havisham! :)

Loki is asleep. It takes time for Thor to notice.

Day-to-day life on a survivor ship has taxed him. Preparations are in progress for their journey to Midgard. They must establish trade points and separate bargain goods from the general stock. The injured are still recovering, the uninjured tread with fear and uncertainty. The Ark is a sizeable ship, but its confines grow increasingly claustrophobic. Thor must contend with petty arguments, brawls, and - of course - Banner in his more volatile green form.

Asgard is not a place, Father said. It’s a people. And the people are Thor’s responsibility now.

“Is this the curse of kingship in the House of Odin?” Loki prodded upon his arrival. “Are you doomed to an eternity of pointless brooding like the All-Father?”

“I thought you were here to offer wisdom, brother.”

Loki smiled from the doorway, mischief brewing behind crooked lips.

In their youth, every glint of Loki's eyes promised new excitements. Loki’s mind was a marvel, or so it seemed back then. So clever, and such a speaker! Silvertongue, Thor called him. Father’s choice to attend to the diplomats who visited Asgard. So smooth in speech, so easy a liar. Thor was jealous of his prowess. He teased Loki for his wordsmithing and joked crudely about his mouth's talents. Loki stamped at him always and threatened to tell mother.

Loki's smile has changed little from those days, it is they who have changed. Thor now marvels, not at what his brother is, but that he has not left. He has his own reasons for staying, no doubt, a scheme Thor is sure not to like. But for now, Loki is here. On the Ark, among the survivors of Asgard, and in Thor’s room.

Now, Thor watches the easy rise and fall of Loki's chest. A half-open fist curls against his cheek, his other hand mid-thumb inside some book. Always reading, his brother. Thor used to complain loudly when Loki stayed in his room with his books while he and the Warriors Three made merry in the streets.

Thor cannot remember the last time Loki slept in his presence. Was it as young men, before Thor’s failed first coronation? Dozing after one mug of ale too many, or falling asleep under the stars after a battle well fought? Even then, did Loki stay with Thor and his friends in a comfortable pile of slumber? Or did he take his leave as his eyelids began to sink?

Thor stands from his perch - a narrow seat wedged in the room’s corner. With a sigh, he removes his boots and sits on the other side of the bed. Loki’s breathing pattern changes little, a slight hitch when the springs shift.

Thor tries to think of other things, such as building a settlement on Midgard. Should they return to that fine place that became the final resting home of their father? Or perhaps Thor’s place is in New York. The sorcerer Strange could be of assistance.

He thinks of his friends’ reaction to finding Loki in his company, and he can’t help but smile. What an odd life this has proven to be, for himself and his wretched brother.

His gaze refuses to stray from Loki for long. He looks...at peace. It is uncharacteristic, so crazy that Thor has to believe it is another trick. He squints at his brother’s body stretched on his side. There is no telltale haze of magic, no other sign that this visage is an illusion.

Cautiously, Thor taps the open book by Loki’s side. It does not bite him, stab him, or shoot him spiraling from a hovercraft. Mouth tilted, Thor gives Loki’s hair an affectionate touch. Loki’s fingers twitch against his cheek. Beyond this, he does not move.

If only Thor’s words on Sakaar had been true - that he and his brother’s paths diverged long ago. For once, Thor was able to trick his trickster brother. Loki was distracted in that elevator. Thor's words blinded him to the obedience disk pat affectionately into his back.

Thor knew his path had not diverged from Loki’s. He knew, somehow, some way, Loki would follow him to Asgard. In Loki’s own selfish way, he would do what was right, or he would expose the true depths of his hatred for his homeland. Either way, Thor would know.

Loki is tied to him. His personal burden, as Thor is to him. How this tether must rankle Loki! Thor grins at the thought and tucks a piece of Loki’s hair behind his ear.

“I will stab you,” Loki mumbles.

“I don’t recall inviting you to my bed.”

“I don’t recall needing an invitation.” Loki tucks his face against his curled hand. Sighing down his wrist, he falls silent again.

Thor closes Loki’s book and places it on the stand beside the bed. It’s a welcome distraction from Loki’s words.

Recall needing an invitation to his bed - yes well, that is a wrinkle in and of itself. One Thor has not had cause to think of in many years.

As young men, Loki never required an invitation, true. Thor’s desires were well-known, as were his brother’s - or so he thought. Their actions were discreet, though Thor was never ashamed. Even before he knew Loki's true parentage, their brotherhood defied simple definition. Thor wanted Loki by his side as brother, as friend, and as lover; the labels wound together like threads in a fine garment.

Loki has not been that man in many years. Loki has not been this man either, one to close his eyes and expose himself to his brother’s gaze by choice. To doze with Thor beside him, void of the poisonous thoughts that have plagued his mind.

Thor is surprised by the depth of his affection. It returns suddenly, held back all these years by the unsteadiest of branches. Thor was willing to discard his brother on Sakaar, now his gaze refuses to leave Loki’s face.

Thor sinks to the bed beside him. He eases gentle fingers into Loki’s hair, a thumb drawn down his cheekbone. Loki huffs and tries to turn away, but in doing so he only exposes more of his hair.

How Thor used to love to play with it. He teased Loki for his black tresses, shining smooth as a mare’s mane. Loki hated him for his teasing, but he yielded, always. How beautiful he was in these moments, flushed in face and fast of breath, eyes mossy, glinting need.

“You are trying me, brother,” Loki says. The warning comes out as a sleep-hazed slur, and Thor feels its tenor in his belly. His thumb draws to the pulse point beneath his brother’s jaw. It flutters gently against Thor’s hand.

Thor desires him.

His fingers continue their tender exploration. They walk along Loki’s neck, tracing the sinews of his throat. Loki huffs but does not complain.

Thor eases his hand to Loki’s chest. His shirt is a flattering cut, a wide neck that exposes the line of his collarbone. Thor scratches a thumb across it, gratified by Loki’s abruptly drawn breath. His brother’s mouth pops open. Thor licks his own enviously.

Loki grumbles at Thor’s hand combing the flat of his stomach. So tightly drawn, lean and strong. “Sentiment,” Loki hums. He cracks one amused eye open.

“You have your own quarters for sleeping,” Thor says.

Loki’s smile spreads, sleekly provoking. “My suspicions are confirmed,” he purrs. “The King of Asgard hoards the finest mattress for himself.”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“What I’m doing,” Loki says with a long, languid stretch, “is sleeping, dearest sibling. So if you don’t- hmm,” his voice drifts to a sigh, Thor’s mouth on his.

They barely move, grazed interest and quiet breaths. Thor’s thumb scales the line of Loki’s jaw. Loki seems to like the touch, a note of pleasure under Thor’s lips.

With a chuckle, Loki turns to his back, and Thor follows, a hand fisted in Loki’s shirt.

“I would have you, brother,” Thor murmurs. “Like the old days.”

Loki blinks sleep-warm eyes at him. “The old days?” His voice scratches from his doze. “Should I hold fondness for those memories?”

Damn his needling. Even angered, Thor cannot hide his hurt. “Were even those times a lie?” he demands.

Loki’s mouth rests open for an odd, weighty pause. Thor reads the conflict in Loki’s eyes; it settles on a chuckle. “Even you must admit, you were a child about the whole thing.”

“ _I_ was a child-”

“Ah, there it is.” Loki tucks himself against Thor’s side. Under less frustrating circumstances, Thor may have found the action intimate. Loki smothers a yawn behind pressed lips. “Don’t ruin this, Thor,” he says.

Thor has no intention of ruining anything. He also has no intention yielding to his brother’s mockery.

Thor sits up, ignoring Loki’s grumble at the loss of body heat. He shifts down the bed, the springs of the mattress groaning their soft permission. He pauses midway down, absorbing the relaxed arch of his brother’s body.

Loki stirs. “What are you doing?”

“Childish antics,” Thor says. “You need not concern yourself.”

“Idiot,” Loki mutters. He buries his face against a crooked elbow.

Thor is gentle as he guides Loki’s pants to open, unbuttoning and rolling the body-fit fabric down his legs. As many battles as they’ve waged, it remains a marvel how unblemished his skin is. It is unusual for a warrior, no doubt a credit to Loki’s magic. Thor's admiring hand scales Loki’s torso.

Loki’s cock rests pink and soft. Thor’s lips quirk at the challenge.

Loki’s brow creases in surprise, and a low tremor rolls through his body. “Are you…” His voice becomes a deep sigh as Thor gathers him into his mouth. His taste is a shock of memory. He toys lazily with Loki’s balls, a thumb between them. Loki shudders at the gentle tug, and his legs scissor open. Thor feels his twitch of interest and rewards with a slow stroke of his tongue.

He gives a gentle suckle, marveling at the heaviness building on his tongue. His lips stretch to accommodate his brother’s arousal. Loki makes a sound that Thor knows he must loathe, a whine of sorts that curls Thor’s mouth upward.

“The mighty Thor,” Loki rasps, thick and unfocused. “Is this what a king- _ah!_ ” Thor raises his eye, head bobbed low. His mouth is full yet still hungering.

Loki’s eyes are on him, a deep green that lacks their usual sharpness.

Thor pulls him deeper, gratified by the larger swell of Loki’s cock. His beard scratches between Loki’s thighs. Loki’s hips rise, and he cups a hand to Thor's head. He holds Thor down, smirking, perhaps thinking he’s turned the tables.

His expression slacks to wonder when Thor relaxes his jaw. It is effort to take him, tension written in his neck. Loki must feel his tightness, by the tremor that crashes through him. The faintest of flushes warms his brother’s cheeks. It pleases Thor, and he wants more.

“Does the concept of sleep mean nothing...to...ohh…” Thor’s mouth-wet finger broaches his backside. Loki sinks against it, an instinct Thor is sure he must loathe.

He eases his wet finger inside, allowing Loki time to shift for the pressure. Thor tastes his need, hot and firm between his lips. He moves his head easily, as if the years between acts do not exist. His finger rises to the second knuckle, then the third. Loki’s body flutters around him.

Thor adds a second finger, and Loki groans. At this weakness, Thor can’t resist pulling his head back. “Shall I leave you to your sleep, brother?” Thor's smile is swollen, and his words croak, but Loki looks so dazed that his own weakness does not register.

“You damned- _oh shit_.” Loki's offense collapses when Thor descends and gathers him with only his mouth. His curse is so unexpectedly Midgardian that Thor cannot help his laugh. Loki tenses at the sound. Thor feels the pull around fingers that stretch and scissor inside him.

After a still moment, Loki relaxes. Fingers dig insistently against Thor's scalp, urging him on. He proceeds greedily, enjoying the weight on his tongue and the soreness in his jaw. Loki’s hips buck forward, his gasp more encouragement than irritation. Thor feels the give around his fingers.

Encouraged, Thor pushes his hand up, thrusting deep. Loki moans, a hand clawing at his shoulders. It hurts, and Thor likes it. He thrusts again, and crooks his fingers to angle. Loki bucks, his open mouth only offering broken sounds. Gratifying, to still that smart tongue of his.

Thor's face is warm from effort, scalp sore and shoulders marked. His gaze stays on Loki’s face. Loki's grit teeth and squeezed eyes give way to a shaking head. “Ah, Thor-” Loki gasps.

His control collapses, a slacked mouth giving way to a groan as his waist spasms. He jerks, and Thor swallows his release, satisfaction rumbling low in his throat. Loki shivers at the sound. He slacks to the bed, and Thor waits until he begins to soften between his lips to release him.

Thor climbs up the bed and tosses himself down victorious at his brother’s side. His face hurts. His shoulders and back hurt. His scalp hurts. He could not be more pleased.

Loki blinks at him, focus slow to return. Color still warms his face, his lips red from his own biting. Thor kisses them softly, reveling in Loki’s quick intake of breath. “Have I done right by you, brother?” he asks.

“You’re ruining it,” Loki mutters. His body says otherwise as he tucks against Thor’s side.

Thor hums amusement and slings a heavy arm around Loki’s side. Loki scowls and paws his chest in lazy warning. A glance confirms that his brother has a smile on his face.

*The End*


End file.
